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Svetoslav Mar 9
A lone nightingale winks from a burnt branch
deep into the living forest-- the nightingale sings.
Nighttime howls from wolves across the hills soothe the solitude in its voice.
The surface of the world-- majestic and aquatic quilt holds all life together.

Nightingale shadows fly and send their breath across the falling atmosphere.
A nearby owl envisions the moon with its eyes.
Animals respond to the cycle of nature below the pouring fresh rain
for the grains to grow up, waters will feed them.

Nearby animals taste life under the misty skies as the forest grows.
Thunder waits for the nightingales to weep into blackness disguised
silently they let their tears ripple into the waters.
The bird on the branch stands like an altar.

Autumn comes like the chariot of a lover worshiping romance
trees shift into brighter shades-- they get older with every hour spent.
Feeling sleepy, the birds sense their slightest vibrations--
the storm was experienced colder, and thunder sounded louder.
Dry leaves merge with the wilting grasses
the leaves hover into the wind manifesting the outcome.

Here within the eye of the storm in the pureness of earth
a bird's moan punctures glasses built on the verge of civilization.
The border between those two worlds is shaking
all birds will leave to the south searching for refuge away from the deep sleep incoming and frightful gray dreams.

goodness is echoing from their flight
caressing abandoned puddles, along with the breeze
feeds dusty grass beads and the specks of dirt are crumbling
lilies in the valley succumb to the shaking
all eyes get directed towards the outcome.
Svetoslav Mar 9
A wise guru once said:
"A land with no culture that is relying on finances will fall."

Deeds are deeper to analyze.
Psychotic painter draws two brothers fighting.
He dabs with brush lunacy on the palette.
Signing a virus onto media to frighten us, gain our fortune.

And his flames irradiate from looking boxes.
Hypnotizing, he scourges our perception of Russia.
He foreshadows his evil plan west from across the Atlantic ocean.
Can he operate our responses?

The painter watches from the sky as he sits on a mountain throne.
His Empire of lies he founded in slavery and ******.
He drips blood from his nose and beard.
Silencing his victims, he draws their cries.

He places an eagle on his shoulder with a crooked hand.
Predator's eyes lined up above his black disguise.
Sharping claws to hook into prey.
His cheeky smile hid beneath the falling day.

''Justice'', he says. ''Justice will be directed by my will.''

Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Vietnam, Cuba, Puerto Rico, Bosnia, Serbia, Haiti, Kuwait, Nicaragua, Libya, Korea, Panama, and Japan left buried beneath the dust of his unleashed hell.
A grieving continuation. Throughout the eradication of old Indians, unfortunate Africans, and Mexicans. Nobody heard then, and nobody prayed. Eyes and prayers are now in Ukraine.

Ukrainians bombed peaceful Russian people in Donbas.
Repeatedly harassing and retaliation came crashing.
In a great mess unclean, rubbing his hands in peace,
America's afraid to intervene.
Awaiting others to fight is in his scheme.
Listen to the Ukrainian president lying to the world,
his soldiers died on Snake Island.
A corrupt government generates hate on the backs of the Russian people.
The Russian bear is awakened, taking care of the invaders of his den. And the Ukrainian president hides behind the living shields of brave civilian men.

He smokes a pipe with a hat hiding his face.
NATO kept provoking, aiming at a new order.
Owning most media that spans Europe- America possess this place.
Russians never spoke against him, while he does and uses NATO to hide. Showing desperation to pay his debts towards Europe,
he made a bid to his mind.

"Russian soldiers have orders not to respond to provocations and protect civilians. They warn the people of Ukraine where they will strike to prevent the casualties. Do not listen to the Ukrainian president. He will do anything to stay in power."
Svetoslav Mar 9
The sun slipped through
Bright shadows come shimmering
A loving child leaps into a puddle
It pours the morning dew

Cleft clouds onto the floor
Where glimmering fantasies fall
Crystalline fingers dim
As fresh as dawn drizzle the night dash in

Wild swamp brimmed in flowers.
Frogs glide on damp open lilies.
Croaking below the cloak of an oak tree
Prest to leap on a leafy log

Adoring the old tree bringing warmth
The lilies soak in eternity
A signed by life affinity
Sets us free like the wind

The sun and rain sparkle in color
Rainbow paints the petals green
Frogs drink water with skin
Utterly dry, they hop on moist soil

The old tree inclines to the earth
Wind shuffle leaves rustle
Unfurling petals of roses
Swaying in the falling rain

Earth and water
Connected in a vow
To each a jewel in the wild
Both live to fill each other's desire

Empty fog rests on beings' entire.
Mirroring entities listen to the forest's choir.
Stretching myself to infinity in a dream
Time flows like elusive steam
Svetoslav Mar 8
War
Irreverent smiles hid beneath the falling day.
Sharping claws to hook into prey.
Predator eyes lurking above a black disguise.
War is a pacifier for the unwise.

Over a dusty river circled under red skies.
Flowing in the wind, it sounds like a thousand cries.
War drips her blood from the nose and mouth.
Drinks azure oceans to usher infernal drought.

Rubbing hands in a great mess of unclean.
War is a smoking pipe numbing all being.
Grey curtains separate infants and a mother's milk.
It forces internal wounds to soak on a scarlet silk.

War flies like an owl in the dark.
It mirrors her eyes in a burning spark.
Machine scourge dispatched the meek.
Youth lies iced on a lambent specters' peak.
Svetoslav Nov 2021
The only boy in the family got drafted into the army. He saw that the journey away from home might be his last. "Mother, please take this rose. I will come back once it has withered," the young man said to his mother as he wiped the tear on her cheek. He went down the road looking at the sky. The rose never withered, and the boy never returned. His ashes were scattered in the winds by the explosion that devastated his journey. His name got engraved on a stone, and that is what's left of him. One time he prayed to return and two times he perished. One time he was posthumously awarded and two times he was remembered.
------------
Memorial to the people that gave their lives for their cause.
They headed to the battlefield with enormous courage,
fought for what they believe in
and caught the prize of remembrance and honor.
Even though they wanted to live happily with their families.

Many children were left without their dads
and many grandchildren had no grandfathers there to love and play with.
All of this was because of the desire to conquer
and wishes for fortune of some people.

Here this stone will remain
with the names of the fallen heroes for eternity.
For their families to remember and what they could have had
if it wasn't for the mindless people and their blade of destiny.
The flowers we put show that their sacrifice wasn't in vain.
Svetoslav Nov 2021
Let the night in, for I'll be writin' the letters of light in the air.
Our bodies pulsate by the notes of gentle symphonies, and we adhere.
Two elements shakin' and mergin' into one.

We are makin' it and cravin' for more of this addictive fun.
The moonlight rays reach the shapes of the furniture, movin' along with the temperature, increasin' with each movement.

Like desert diamonds, we will reflect in the pearly sun.
You will be the meadow that I will prefer and the lover within my arms to cover. Until amusement, let my cries give you inducement.

From the color of sulfate, this night is glowin' with universal sparks.
We both have bewitchin' feels for each other.
I am tastin' honey on the curves of her skin, and we embark on the hill.

The darkness is sailin' on the waves of our unity.
We stomp on a bed full of cherries, and the night stays still.
She feeds me with her tempting body, and I see her lucid thrills.

I climb on her high balconies, and I am one with the moon,
drinkin' from the passion of her milky skin.
Our hearts entwined. I attune from the voice of the raccoon.

Her body is femininity incarnated into a guitar. I play on her strings, listenin' to the music from noon until dawn, bound to our emotional devotion. Our irresistible pleasure is bowing to our connection.
Excerpt from my novel ''Last Occurrence''
Read it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09KF4DYMJ
Svetoslav Nov 2021
Let the night in, for I will write the letters of light in the air.
Our bodies pulsate by the notes of gentle symphonies, and we adhere.
Two elements shakin' and mergin' into one.

We are makin' and cravin' for more of this addictive fun.
The moonlight rays reach the shapes of the furniture, movin' along with the temperature, increasin' with each movement.

From the color of sulfate, this night is glowin' with universal sparks.
We both have bewitchin' feels for each other.
I am tastin' honey on the curves of her skin, and we embark on the hill.

The darkness is sailin' on the waves of our unity.
We stomp on a bed of cherries, and the night stands still.
She feeds me with her tempting body, and I see her lucidly.

I climb on her high balconies, and I am one with the moon,
drinkin' from the passion of her milky skin.
I attune from the voice of the raccoon.

Her body is femininity incarnated into a guitar.
I play on her strings, listenin' to the music from noon until dawn,
bound to our emotional devotion.
Excerpt from my novel ''Last Occurrence''
Read it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09KF4DYMJ
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